


Like Father Like Son

by marlee813



Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Banter, Father-Son Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Reverse Big Bang Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlee813/pseuds/marlee813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk was never a decent father, always chose his career over his son and didn’t realize the consequences it would have. On either of their lives. Until fate, destiny, or one Christopher Pike interferes and reunites them. What happens when they’re forced to come together to save the people they love the most? Can they overcome their differences?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Father Like Son

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Trek Reverse Big Bang](http://trekreversebang.livejournal.com). I had a wonderful time writing this and really hope the fic did the drawing justice. It was a lovely [picture](http://megan-moonlight.livejournal.com/503299.html).
> 
> Also HUGE thanks goes out to [Kenshincha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kenshincha/pseuds/kenshincha) for her awesome beta work.
> 
> For ease of reading... TOS!Kirk will always be referred to as Kirk and AOS!Kirk will always be referred to as Jim.

****

2255 – Jim

“Your dad said you’d be here.”

Jim looks up from where he’s been nursing his latest beer, whether number five or ten Jim can’t remember at this point, and glares unsteadily at the older man perched on the seat next to him. Dark grey uniform. Starfleet. _Of course_.

“Who the hell’re you?” Jim slurs, his head rocking precariously towards the table as his body struggles to stay conscious. 

"I'll give you my name when you've sobered a bit. Doubt you'll remember it otherwise,” the man quips, motioning with his hand to the bartender, “two coffees. Black.”

The second the bartender comes back with the coffee the man is pushing both of them in his direction. Jim raises an eyebrow.

“Drink. I’m _not_ having this conversation while you’re about to pass out, kid.”

Jim grumbles into his beer but accepts the coffee anyways, drinking them both as quickly as he can without burning himself. He knows it’s a myth that coffee can sober you up, but he can already feel the slight fuzz tinting his vision start to dissipate. It takes another twenty minutes, the guy still sitting beside him patiently, before Jim can sit up without fear of puking everywhere.

“Think you owe me that name now,” Jim demands, lifting his hands above his head to stretch.

“I don’t remember owing you anything, Jim. But the name’s Pike. Christopher Pike. Think you can remember that?”

“Shouldn’t be too difficult,” Jim mutters, rolling his eyes skyward. The momentum has him pitching forward in his seat, his bravado having masked his previous level of drunkenness.

“Whoa there, Jim,” Pike laughs, his hands reaching out to steady him, “do we need to move to more intense methods to sober you up? Running? Cold shower?”

Jim shoots Pike a glare, but eventually just shakes his head no, “this is about as sober as I’m gonna get for the time being.”

“I’m planning to wait here all night, son. At least you don’t look like death warmed over anymore so much as you look stupid.” 

“Stupid?” Jim splutters indignantly. He’d been called many things in his life: an idiot, a moron, hell even a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals, but he’d never been called stupid. And why should he be? He heard the results of the numerous testing he’d been subjected to as a kid, heard the whispers in the halls, the way the teachers looked at him as if he was a freak. He was – is – nothing but a…

“Genius repeat offender,” Pike finishes and Jim looks at him quizzically. Pike shrugs a shoulder, “you were talking out loud, kid.”

Jim feels his face flame and studies the coffee cup as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Way to spill the most troubling part of his childhood to a complete fucking stranger. Jesus, he’s drunker than he thought.

Jim tips his chin up in defiance, desperate to change the subject, “and you were talking to me about my _father_?” He spits the last word with as much venom as his drunken self can muster. 

“Jim,” Pike starts, tone already sounding exasperated, “your father is a –”

“A great man, blah blah, save me the bullshit story.”

Truth be told, he hasn’t seen his father in years, mostly being raised by his grandparents after his mother, Carol, had passed away. He’s sick and tired of listening to other people regale him with stories of his so-called father. The man is shrouded in mystery. The few memories Jim has of him are hazy, almost surreal. It’s as if he’s dead and Jim is chasing a ghost he’ll never measure up to.

“Not what I was gonna say, Jim. Your father _is_ a great man, a great _Captain_ , but we both know he’s hardly been there for you.”

Jim is momentarily shocked into silence, not used to people so freely expressing the negative qualities of his father. His face must give away the shock he’s feeling because Pike starts to laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling endearingly.

“Don’t look like that, Jim,” Pike smiles, “you’re not the only person who doesn’t worship the ground your father walks on.”

Jim scoffs, foot tapping gently against the wooden bar stool, “you could’ve fooled me, waltzing in here to wax poetic. What are you trying to do? Reunite father and son?” Jim knows that he sounds petulant, like a child, but for a brief moment he is, small hands pointing at the TV, his dad’s face plastered all over the news as Grandma Winny claps her hands happily and tells him that his dad is a hero.

Pike just smirks at Jim’s tirade, Cheshire grin pulling wide across his hardened features, “I want you to enlist.” Pike speaks matter-of-factly and for the second time that night Jim can feel his face uncharacteristically twist into confusion.

“Enlist?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Me? Enlist?” Jim snorts, “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Pike leans forward on the bar, hands steepled in front of him, “I’ve read your test scores, kid. They’re off the charts. Regardless of your record and… extracurricular activities you still scored in the top 99th percentile of all your classes. You’re always questioning the status quo, not to mention that you’re not afraid to jump into situations when the time calls for it. Starfleet needs more people like you.”

“Starfleet already has my father.” 

His perfect, do-no-wrong father.

“He’s not infallible, Jim,” Pike answers Jim’s unsaid words, the academy having apparently taught him mind reading. “Did he ever tell you about the time he nearly got kicked out of the academy?” 

Jim barely manages to not laugh in Pike’s face and shakes his head no. He’d learned more about his father in the last hour with Pike than he ever did with anyone else. Under different circumstances he might’ve just liked this man.

“The unbeatable Kobayashi Maru. A programmed simulation designed to test a potential cadet’s response to a no-win scenario.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jim mutters.

“That’s what your father said,” Pike says with a laugh, “he had gone and taken the damn simulation twice, both times coming out of there shouting and swearing about how he didn’t believe in the no-win scenario.”

“Does seem a little defeatist.”

“It does,” Pike agrees easily, “but the point of the simulation is to prepare a cadet for certain death. To experience fear so that it doesn’t overwhelm them. Your father had other ideas though. Ended up signing up to take it for a third time. The only cadet in history to do so.”

“What happened?” Jim pillows his head on his hand trying to feign boredom but, in reality, he’s soaking up the story.

“He beat it,” Pike states, running his fingers through his hair, “ended up installing a subroutine in the programming that, when activated, would render the Klingon’s shields useless. God, Admiral Nogura was so pissed that he called an emergency hearing. He wanted your father immediately thrown out. Accused him of being a cheater right in front of the whole academy. But your dad?” Pike sighs, shaking his head fondly at the memory, “your dad just stated that the Kobayashi Maru in itself was a cheat, and that he merely altered the parameters of the simulation.”

 _Nogura must’ve handed him his ass_ Jim thinks, the idea of his dad being humiliated and reduced to nothing but a sniveling cadet has the hold of hatred wrapped tight around his chest loosening slightly. 

“So what’d he get? Suspension? Duty as Nogura’s bitch boy?”

“Everyone becomes Nogura’s bitch boy at some point in time,” Pike mutters, and the tension is so tangible that Jim makes a personal note not to intentionally piss this _Nogura_ guy off. 

_Wait._. Why is he even _thinking_ this like it’s a foregone conclusion? This buzz better last him a long time cause he is never drinking this much again. Next thing Jim knows he’ll be boarding a shuttle on the way to the fucking academy.

He only realizes that he’s drifted out of reality when he blinks his eyes open, Pike’s fingers snapping in front of his face. He bats them away, shooting Pike a glare from beneath his lashes.

“Lost in your own little world I see,” Pike muses.

Jim huffs, mumbling, “I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking, huh?” 

Jim catches it before Pike can consciously rein it in. Jim’s years of hustling pool and poker playing making face reading nearly second nature. He spots the moment Pike thinks he’s got him, a sure thing that Jim will enlist. Pike’s smile is knowing before he seems to realize that he’s given too much away, his face gracefully masking itself back to neutrality. 

“Just wondering what kind of shit my dad got in,” Jim lies, tilting his chin up in defiance.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, but he didn’t get in any. Your dad ended up getting a commendation for ‘original thinking’.”

“Fucking typical,” Jim snorts, his laugh echoing in the nearly empty bar, derisive and harsh. If that were him he’d probably be thrown out, dragged away kicking and screaming, not given a fucking commendation. His dad must have a horse shoe wedged so far up his ass.

“Is there anything my dad can’t weasel out of?” The question is rhetorical, whispered under heated breath, but Pike hears him anyway.

“Just because he didn’t get kicked out of the academy doesn’t mean he got off scot free, Jim. Admiral Nogura made your dad’s life a living hell, had him brought before the admiralty for numerous bullshit charges: fighting, possession of illegal alcohol and distributing test answers.”

“Lemme guess, he was fighting to save some poor cadet from getting their ass kicked, and the illegal alcohol he had in his possession was actually a rare commodity on some foreign planet that could single handedly wipe out their financial crisis?”

Pike laughs, booming and steady, and smoothes the fabric of his instructor’s uniform down.

“More like he was fighting because he’s a stubborn bastard and someone pissed him off and he was in possession of the alcohol because it tasted damn good. The only thing illegal thing your dad _didn’t_ do was distribute test answers. People were just pissed at him for throwing the curve,” Pike smirks, his eyes full of mirth, “myself included.”

Yeah, Jim knew what that was all about, having kids, teachers, and parents constantly accusing you of everything under the sun just because you happened to possess a greater intelligence. 

It scares Jim to think of just how alike they actually are.

Jim’s suddenly tired, the buzz from the alcohol had slowly dwindled down into nothing but a dull pulse beneath his eyelids. It doesn’t help that, once again, his father had gone and turned everything upside down. Just listening to the stories about a side of his father he never even knew existed was enough to have Jim rethinking his life choices. It was maddening, and Jim needed to leave; needed to disappear for a while, without interruption and without the stable influence of the man sitting next to him. 

If he’s going to do this, he needs to do it for himself.

Jim stands, weary of the fact that it’s been a few solid hours since he’s been at this center of balance. He sways a bit, and hooks his arm over the barstool.

“You ok, kid?” Pike asks, arm reaching out to steady him, “where are you going?”

“I’m fine,” Jim says, shrugging off Pike’s hand, “I just… I need to leave.”

Pike nods in understanding, and moves to stand up, placing his hands atop Jim’s shoulders.

“You think about what I said, alright?”

Jim rolls his eyes but tips his head down in silent agreement anyway. He goes to walk away when Jim notices the throb in his lower stomach, the alcohol and lack of pressure on his bladder had previously numbed the sensation. He detours, making his way to the bathroom, his bladder protesting nearly every step.

“Oh eight hundred hours, tomorrow, Riverside shipyard,” Pike calls out to him as he nears the bathroom. Jim doesn’t acknowledge it and by the time he re-emerges, not two minutes later, Pike is gone. As is the tab Jim started when he first got here.

The Iowa air is brisk, whipping against Jim’s face as he steps out onto the gravel. He breathes in deep and angles his head towards the sky, the small - almost imperceptible - stars litter throughout the night. It’s something he’s always done; even as a kid he’d lay down in the Iowa dirt and stare up at the endless black, convinced that every flash of light amongst the stars was his dad’s ship. 

As Jim grew up, the love he had for the stars - the underlying thrum of anticipation he got every time he thought about what it would be like to spend the entirety of his life hurdling through space - morphed into deep resentment, an unwavering hatred for taking his dad across the galaxy.

Although the bitterness had dissipated over the years, muddled into a resigned acceptance, Jim had never thought he would again experience the emotions that had once previously convinced him that being in space was his destiny. 

The discussion with Pike had left him nearly shaking with unfettered excitement. He can’t help but look up to the stars now with a renewed sense of peace, content with the fact that it’s where he belongs; where he wants to be.

****

Jim slows his motorcycle to a stop, dust kicking up into the air as he cuts the engine. He plants his boots firmly into the dirt as he leans back, watching as the sun peeks out from the horizon, bathing the earth in soft oranges and reds. Jim squints, the sun reflecting off the metal hull suspended far in the distance, but he can still make it out the name.

U.S.S _Enterprise_.

Jim smiles, his grin wide. He’d stayed awake all night - the mix of anxiety and excitement playing havoc on his fried nerves - but it’s still the most alive he’s felt in a long time. The sense of direction, of _purpose_ , so strong that he starts the engine back up immediately, not wanting to waste another second.

Riverside Shipyard is a veritable clusterfuck of chaos by the time Jim arrives, people running around barking orders while red uniformed bodies shove themselves into shuttles. Jim can see Pike standing off to the side of one of the shuttles, PADD in hand, instructor uniform pressed to perfection. The familiar face pulls Jim unconsciously closer until Pike catches sight of him and waves him over.

“Hey you can’t park that there,” someone interrupts as Jim is cutting the engine to his motorcycle.

Jim just tosses him the keys, “she’s yours now, man. I’ve got no use for her anymore.” He pats her once before he slides off and makes his way to Pike, the last bit of his past left sitting in the dirt. 

Jim steps onto the shuttle staircase and the reality of his decision comes crashing down on him immediately, the walls enclosing on him. He takes a deep breath and turns towards Pike, mustering up a grin he’s barely capable of.

“James T. Kirk reporting for duty.” He salutes, his cocky front hiding the fear wedged deep and unmoving in the pit of his stomach. 

“Noted,” Pike responds, humor tinting his voice slightly. “I’m glad you decided to join us, Jim.” The tone is sincere and Jim smiles despite the anxiety swirling through his body, making him lightheaded and a bit dizzy.

“That makes one of us. I’ve gotta start calling you professor now,” Jim jokes, looking put out.

Pike laughs and Jim takes that as his cue to go find a seat but a firm hand on his forearm has him stopping in his tracks. He turns back to Pike questioningly, eyebrows raised slightly.

“Speaking of _professors_ , you do know your dad finished the academy in three and a half years, right?” 

Jim’s sure that Pike is just goading him on now, but it still has the desired effect. Jim feels the spike of adrenalin snake down his body at the familiar thrill of competition. He wants to beat him, wants to do something that sets him apart, to do something for himself and not for his father’s approval.

“I’ll do it in three.”

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t see the drop bar until it is, quite literally, in front of his face. He smacks his head off the bar hard, garnering attention from the people around him. He closes his eyes to try to stop the pain radiating through his face and down the side of his neck but the bursts of light underneath his eyelids is too strong. Jim cracks an eye open to be met with a penlight mere centimeters in front of him and he jerks away.

“Jesus, quit moving around.”

Jim peers over the light to be met with an older man, face twisted into concern, eyes wild and roaming over every inch of Jim’s face.

“’M fine,” Jim grumbles, tentatively raising a hand to the swelling bump, the pain having numbed into a persistent ache.

“You ain’t fine ‘til I say you are, damnit,” the man drawls, southern accent strong beneath the gruff exterior, “you hit your head pretty hard.”

“Who are you? A doctor?” The man certainly doesn’t _look_ like a doctor, his face is stubbled as if he hasn’t shaved in a few days, and he’s dressed in civilian clothes. But the way he carries himself, that definite air of authority that demands attention, and the fact that he has a fucking _penlight_ has Jim rethinking his first impression.

“Yeah, kid. McCoy. Leonard McCoy.” McCoy extends his hand and Jim shakes it, the man’s hand firm and strong – if not a bit clammy - in his grip. 

“Jim Kirk.” The words are out of his mouth before he can pull them back in. He knows his name is going to attract attention here, deep in Starfleet territory. 

McCoy stops, his mouth dropping open slightly in recognition. It’s not a good look on him.

“Wait, as in son of the famous James T. Kirk?”

“One and only,” Jim replies coolly. All he’s ever known his whole life is being son of the almighty James T. Kirk. It’s really getting old. 

But McCoy recovers quickly – to Jim’s immense relief – and just pats him on the back, “glad to see that the traumatic brain injury you suffered hasn’t given you amnesia. Now how’s the head feeling?”

“It’s all better now, doc. Due to your immediate intervention I’m sure I’ll live now,” Jim snarks and the man rolls his eyes and motions to an empty row of seats.

“Might as well sit with me so that you don’t die from an internal hemorrhage while we’re... while we’re flying.” The stutter is out of place; although he’s known the guy for all of ten minutes, it’s just not like McCoy to be unsure of his wording. Now that Jim’s vision isn’t swimming Jim can easily see how nervous McCoy looks, he’s wringing his hands and layered in a fine sheen of sweat.

It clicks immediately.

“Are you,” Jim’s incredulous, “are you afraid of _flying_?”

“I have aviophobia and its common, just like dumbassery which apparently you suffer from, walking into a fucking beam like you did just now.”

“It’s not _my_ fault! Starfleet needs to realize that there are people over five feet who exist.”

“I’m just as tall as you and I was perfectly capable of bendin’ the three inches it took to duck out of the way.”

“Hey – ” Jim goes to protest but he’s suddenly got hands pushing him towards the empty seats.

“Alright you two that’s enough,” the lady interrupts, “go take your seats we’re about to take off.”

McCoy’s eyes widen slightly and he raises his hand, index finger pointed skyward, in an attempt to stall her.

“I’ll have none of that from you again, Dr. McCoy. Please sit down and buckle up.”

Jim watches with barely masked amusement as McCoy straps himself in, hands shaking.

“You _do_ realize that Starfleet operates in space right?” Jim feels the need to tell him this, just to be _that_ friend.

McCoy just glowers at him, “I’m aware. Don’t have anywhere else to go though. Wife took everything but my bones in the fuckin’ divorce.” McCoy reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a metal flask, taking a swig before offering it up to Jim.

Jim nods his appreciation and takes the proffered flask. The alcohol is just what he needs to dull his brain enough to stop thinking about the decision he just made. 

“This is some good shit,” Jim states, pleasantly shocked at the smoothness. This McCoy fellow obviously knows his bourbon. 

“You say that like you’re surprised,” McCoy admonishes as he turns his head to look over at him, “Junior.”

Jim just _knew_ that his lack of brain to mouth filter was going to come back to bite him in the ass.

“Is this gonna become a thing now?”

“Yup.”

“Alright... Bones.”

“Dammit, Jim!”

Jim laughs, and for once, the heavy decision weighing him down lifts a little. Maybe this won’t be such a bad idea after all.

****

Kirk – 2258

Kirk slips soundlessly into the auditorium, careful of not attracting any attention. He breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes that the graduation ceremony hasn’t started yet and locates a spot furthest away from the growing crowd of people. He seats himself in the chair closest to the balcony and peers over the railing.

He can see Jim from where he’s sitting, engaged in quiet conversation with the kids around him, dressed in cadet reds. Kirk feels his heart clench at the sight. He’d wanted to find Jim the moment the U.S.S _Farragut_ had docked, but his persistent schedule of meetings had kept him at bay. He was also, admittedly, a little nervous; it’s been _years_ since he’s seen Jim’s face outside of a vid screen and he wasn’t sure of how well he’d be received if he just showed up, unannounced, to Jim’s dormitory.

 _Probably not well_ his mind supplies for him and Kirk swallows down a sigh. Soon to be Captain of the Federation’s new flagship – the U.S.S _Enterprise_ – and just the thought of having a civil conversation with his son has his palms sweating and his heart racing. 

The room suddenly goes quiet, the murmurs of voices dying down quickly into nothingness as the lights begin to dim.

“I would like to first start off by welcoming you all here today for the graduation ceremony of Starfleet Academy’s class of 2258.” Kirk doesn’t have to hear him to know who he is, just the man’s stature alone, tall and intimidating, is enough to alert Kirk of his identity.

 _Admiral Nogura_. Kirk feels himself begin to sit up straighter, the man’s influence still as tangible as it ever was.

“I am Admiral Nogura, and I’ve been asked to give the graduation speech this year. It is an honor to be standing here before you: cadets, fellow colleagues and esteemed guests. As someone who has given over twenty commencements in as many years I am well aware of the fact that I am all that stands between you and your future here at Starfleet.”

“When I spoke last year, my attention was focused solely on the politics and inner workings of Starfleet. I wanted to challenge the existing issues and to draw attention to their influence on the state of the federation. Now these are issues that we face today and _will_ continue to face in the future as they are still a strong and important part of what we do here at Starfleet. They shape and mold the people you see before you into the heart of who we strive to be; a peace keeping armada.”

“But these are not the issues I wish to speak with you about today. Today I want to focus on the families and community that surround each one of you here graduating today. When you enlisted in Starfleet, you did not only sign up yourself, but everyone you know and care for as well. To the faculty, in addition to teaching, many of you have served in Starfleet as some of the finest Captain’s and Commander’s this generation has ever known. You’ve worked as science officers, in the engineering departments and kept our fleet safe and healthy by training to be doctors and nurses. On top of all of that, you’ve shared your knowledge and experience with those around you and I thank you for that. You, as graduates, will be better prepared to face what life has in store for you.”

“To the parents,” Admiral Nogura bellows, making sure his voice carries to the higher rafters of the auditorium, “approximately four years ago you stood proud and watched as your children left on their journey –”

Kirk leans back in his chair and, for the first time in a long time, feels the guilt that he had bottled up inside him all these years. Kirk can admit to his shortcomings, can admit that he spends too much time focused on the job, can try to convince himself that that’s what Captains are _supposed_ to do. 

But he was never there to see Jim off when he went to school, never got to hear how his day went. The transmissions between him and Jim were forced at best and just plain awkward at worst. His own _son_ and he can’t even have a discussion with him. He wants to feel proud, he _is_ proud, but he’s not worthy of the feeling. 

“– we all came here today, feeling a tumultuous mixture of emotion and I hope that some of the anxiety that you shared in sending off your children is assuaged. I want to thank you for believing in them during their arduous journey and for what you have done to make the individuals sitting before me some of the most outstanding people I have ever had the pleasure of teaching.

“To the graduating class of 2258, this was not an easy choice or a straightforward voyage and I offer you my congratulations for pushing through and coming out on top. In your leadership roles, it will now be up to you to face the hard decisions, to do the right thing even when it is the harder choice. To complete something to the best of your ability and to not subscribe to the easier or more convenient solution. Here at Starfleet we call that honor.”

Kirk has never been one for the conspiracy theory, but he’s pretty sure that Admiral Nogura just personally attacked him a little bit. _Nogura will just never get over the fact that I bested him on his beloved Kobayashi Maru_.

“– also takes courage. And not just the physical courage it takes to protect Earth and the federation from harm, to explore new life and new possibilities, but a moral courage as well. Moral courage is often overlooked; and even harder to find. In universities, in military institutions and in business, there is a heavy focus on teamwork, to get along with your colleagues and superiors. And while I believe that it is not only a skill, but a necessity in careers such as our own, there is also a time where you will have to stand up and put yourself on the line. Alone. And that will be one of the hardest things you will have to do. And that takes courage, to keep the rough edges rough, to face problems head on instead of papering over them, sometimes without the support of others.”

“In closing, I am sure I do not only speak for myself when I say that we have done our best to provide you with everything that you need to achieve success. Earth, and the rest of the federation, is grateful for your service. We all seek peace, and it is only through the continued dedication, strength, vigilance, courage and commitment of people like you who can make that happen. I salute you.”

Kirk sits stock still. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears as he surveys the room quickly. No one has moved, the final words still hovering in the air as if they were just spoken. Suddenly someone whistles, the sound piercing in the silent air and the moment is effectively broken, applause near deafening as people stand up and cheer.

Kirk joins in, clapping heartily as he watches his son laughing, and Kirk can’t help but smile back at the sight. He watches as Jim looks towards the rafters, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Kirk is sure that Jim has spotted him. But it’s over before Kirk has time to react, and by the time Jim turns back to his group of friends, Kirk is already moving towards the exit. 

The hallway is a silent reprieve from the overall happy atmosphere of the auditorium. Kirk stands off to the side, arms crossed against his chest. He hates himself for his reticence. He’s discovered new worlds, fought in wars and saved many species from extinction, but he can’t muster up the courage to go and congratulate his son. He doesn’t know when he’ll have the chance again.

The _U.S.S Enterprise_ was leaving in a few days, after having finally been completed, and Kirk was unsure where Jim had been stationed. Kirk’s place was on the Enterprise as her rightful and well earned Captain. He just hoped his son would get to join him. Make up for lost time.

“Jimmy.”

Kirk turns at the voice; Chris Pike is leaning against the wall, feet crossed at the ankle. Kirk smiles and moves towards the older man, enveloping him in a hug.

“Chris,” Kirk pulls back, clapping both his shoulders with his hands, “didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Saw you trying to sneak through the backdoor, thought I’d come find you.” Kirk can hear the concern in Chris’s voice, the nearly patronizing tone to it and Kirk represses his anger, hands clenching in his gold tunic.

“No need to draw attention to myself, Chris. They didn’t need to know that the brilliant Captain James T. Kirk was in their midst.”

Chris rolls his eyes, “careful of that ego, Jimmy. Soon you won’t be able to fit your head through the door.”

“That’s a compliment if I ever heard one,” Kirk teases; he’s missed this man. 

Chris nudges his shoulder in comfortable camaraderie, “so, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day where your son not only graduated but beat your record, too. Three years,” Chris continues, shaking his head, “I didn’t think he’d be able to do it. Kid shocks the hell out of me.”

Kirk smiles through clenched teeth. He should be the one telling people of his son’s achievements, his voice laced with a hint of pride; not having it told to him in some offhanded comment designed, solely, to get a reaction out of him. “I knew Jim could do it,” Kirk replies, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral.

Despite his lack of participation in Jim’s life, Kirk hasn’t once been shocked by the things his son accomplished if he put his mind to them. He remembers the vid calls, George and Winona holding Jim up to the screen so that he could tell his father about his day, the numerous drawings and report cards pushed up to the camera by tiny fingers. Everyone had been surprised by Jim’s abilities, his superior intelligence and his understanding of the world around him. Everyone except Kirk, who had just beamed with pride, his heart full to bursting. 

“Why don’t you come with me to the graduation party? Tell him yourself,” Chris offers.

The offer is tempting. It would give him the chance to see his son up close, but Kirk just shakes his head, “can’t, Chris. Head honchos have me in meetings all night, surprised they let me out for even this long.”

It’s a lie, but Chris doesn’t question him, just claps him on the back and strides down the hall, boots squeaking against the newly polished tiles. Kirk turns in the opposite direction and makes his way to his temporary housing.

****

It was the first thing that Kirk had unpacked when he docked, the small card withered nearly brown with age. Kirk fingers the card, the crayon smears nearly flush with paper. _Happy Father’s Day, Daddy; Luv Jimmy_. It was the last father’s day card Jim had given to him before he’d been stationed for his first away mission on the _U.S.S Republic_. Kirk smiles at the memory before the chime to his room goes off. He quickly tacks the card to the corkboard.

“Enter.”

The door opens with a swoosh, and Kirk’s newly appointed first officer walks ramrod straight into his room, PADD clutched tightly in his hands.

“Spock.” 

“Captain,” Spock nods his head greeting.

“I thought I told you to get some rest,” Kirk exclaims, eyeing the PADD.

“Vulcans are able to function with significantly less rest than humans, Captain. Of which you are well aware.”

Kirk, for not the first time, praises himself on his excellent choice of first officer.

“Did you have something to discuss or were you going to keep being snarky?”

“Vulcans do not snark, Captain,” Spock quips, his eyes teasing, “I merely wished to make you aware of the updated roster for the Enterprise. I believe you will be... happy.”

Kirk thinks he sees something in Spock’s eyes, and his heart starts beating frantically as he takes the PADD out of Spock’s grip. He pulls on his reading glasses and begins to scan:

_Commander S’chn T’Gai Spock – First Officer/Science Officer_

 

_Lieutenant Nyota Uhura – Chief Communications Officer_

 

_Lieutenant Commander Leonard Horatio McCoy – Chief Medical Officer_

 

_Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott – Chief Engineer_

 

_Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu – Helmsman_

 

_Ensign Pavel Chekov – Security/Tactical Officer_

Kirk is almost at the bottom of the list when he spots it, sucking in a strangled breath as his hands shake, jostling the PADD.

_Lieutenant James Tiberius Kirk Junior – Navigator_

He looks up to where Spock is still standing, hands clasped firmly behind his back.

“Thanks, Spock.”

“Thanks are illogical, Captain,” Spock retorts automatically – obviously forgetting the numerous times Kirk told him it was polite to acknowledge thanks – as he heads for the door, the corners of his mouth relaxing slightly. 

Kirk just smiles, waving him off, “night, Spock.”

“Goodnight, Captain.”

Kirk sits down heavily on the couch. This is his chance to rectify things with Jim, to have another chance at being the father he always wanted to be.

****

2258 – Jim

“Jim you have to go see him,” Bones grabs one of the pillows on the floor and tosses it against Jim’s head underneath the blanket, “we leave in a few damn days. You can’t just _not_ go see him.”

“Watch me,” Jim mutters from beneath the cover.

“Kid,” Jim feels the bed start to jostle as Bones kicks it with his foot, “do you know what I’d give to see my dad again? You can’t just leave your relationship like this! Especially when you have the chance to fix it.” 

“Who said anything ‘bout wantin’ to fix it?”

“I did, goddamnit,” Bones tugs on the comforter, effectively dislodging it from Jim’s grasp. He pulls the blanket free and tosses it to the floor, but Jim just pushes his face harder into the mattress. Jim’s sure his hair is mussed, and his face feels hot from the lack of oxygen. 

“All you’ve been doing is sulking about him. You’re gonna be spendin’ the next five years with him, Jim. Might as well get it over ‘n done with.”

“If I go...”

“Yes, _when_ you go?” Bones prompts.

Jim rolls his eyes under his closed lids, “Will you shut the fuck up about it?”

“Done,” Bones agrees easily, and Jim can just picture his smug, self-satisfied smile.

Jim feels Bones ruffle his hair, and the proximity is close enough that Jim flings out a leg, trying to kick him wherever he can reach. Bones just laughs as he evades the attack and moves to sit down at his desk. Jim grumbles profanity under his breath.

“Jesus Christ, man. Get your ass up.”

Jim, regrettably, pulls himself out of bed, still fucking exhausted after the hours upon hours of graduation ceremonies he was required to suffered through. Not even his two hour nap – that Bones rudely woke him up from – could abate the deep, bone tired he was feeling. He keeps the shirt he slept in on but pulls on the first pair of jeans he can find from the floor.

“I fucking hate you for this, you know,” Jim swears as he does up the fly.

“I know, kid,” Bones answers, turning to face him from his computer chair, “but you’ll thank me later.”

****

The walk to his dad’s room does nothing for Jim’s mindset except to make him more upset and angry over his father’s previous actions. Each step has Jim’s brows pulling closer together, memories flooding, unbidden, into his mind. It’s the first time he’s seen his father’s face in years, and even more since he actively sought him out for conversation.

But Bones is right, and it’s not fair – especially for people like Bones, who didn’t have the opportunity to talk to their dad – to anyone for him to stay away anymore. Bones had talked to him for days about it, and even though he wasn’t happy, Jim was willing to try to hear his dad out. Give him a reason to explain. It wasn’t going to be a magic fix, and Jim was certain their relationship would never be the same as it was when Jim was a child. But he had been commissioned to the Enterprise, and his father was now his commanding officer, he needed to do, or say, _something_.

He stops in front of the door and for a split second Jim contemplates just going back to his room. But Bones’ words hang thick in the air and Jim hovers his hand over the buzzer, his foot tapping nervously before he rings for entrance.

“Spock, I thought I told you –” his father looks up, the height difference between them has Jim standing up taller, imposing.

“Jim,” his father breathes, and just the sound of his name has Jim pulling his arms closer to himself.

“Here in the flesh.”

“I... I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Why would you, it’s not like I told you I was coming.”

His father stands away from the door, motioning with his hand for him to come in. Jim only comes in enough so that the doors whoosh closed behind him. The awkward silence hangs in the air.

“I went to your graduation ceremony,” his father blurts.

“I figured. I was pretty sure it was you hiding in the corner. Actually had myself convinced for a while that you were a hallucination. One minute you were there and the next _poof_ , you were gone.”

“Jim –”

“Save it,” Jim interrupts, “I’m sick and tired of hearing your bullshit excuses.”

“Then what exactly did you come here for?” His father’s voice is hard, nearly accusing, and Jim is aware of just how much of his personality he got from his dad. Both unwilling to break, father and son, a battle of wills.

Jim sighs, huffs out a laugh, “I have no idea. I just figured you would say something that would have me stop hating you.”

His father recoils as if he’s been punched and it angers Jim at how much the sight affects him. He’s so used to wielding his words – and his fists – as weapons, and yet it’s the first time he feels bad doing it.

“For what it’s worth,” his dad starts, careful of every word, “I hate how strained our relationship has become, Jim. Every day I wish I could pull a do over.”

“Well you can’t just pull a do over, dad,” Jim spits, moving further into room, hands flailing in an attempt to demonstrate his point, “life doesn’t fucking work that way.”

“Believe me, son. I am well aware of that fact. After your mom died – ”

“After mom died I fucking _needed_ you. You were too busy trying to be a goddamn hero to the rest of the federation to notice.”

“I did what I had to do, Jim! I was still young, I had dreams and ambitions, and I regret it every day that I chose that life over you. Watching you today, I was so proud, Jim. Prouder than I have ever been in my whole life.”

It kills Jim to hear his father say that. Jim’s protested the thought his whole life; that his dad’s approval meant nothing. That it was something he sure as hell didn’t want or need. But the look on his dad’s face is so sincere, like he’s been bursting at the seams trying to keep it in, that Jim feels himself start to crack. 

Deep down he knows that it’s all he’s ever wanted to hear. For once, in his life, to have his dad tell him how much he believed in him. But he doesn’t want to give his dad the satisfaction and he allows his anger to flow freely.

“No,” Jim protests vehemently, finger pointed accusingly in his father’s direction, “you don’t get to be proud. You’ve done nothing to earn that.”

“Whether or not you want to hear it, son, I’m going to keep saying it until you believe me. It is as much for your benefit as it is mine. I was... stubborn, when I was younger, refused to admit to certain emotions. I just want to... to try to make things right between you and I.”

Jim feels the fight start to leech out at his dad’s confession. It’s easy for Jim to convince himself that his dad is the only one in the wrong. That it should be his dad who should try to make the effort to get in touch. But Jim had hands too, he could’ve vid commed him just as easily during one of his father’s many missions. Jim just chose not to, instead choosing to let his anger grow unrepentant. 

Jim makes his way over wearily to the couch, sitting down on it heavily. His dad sits down on the arm, looking down at him questioningly.

“Bones told me this wouldn’t be easy,” Jim admits, looking up at his dad.

“Bones?”

“My best friend from the Academy. Leonard McCoy,” Jim laughs, the sound surprisingly genuine to his ears, “I just thought I would walk in here and hate you, but I can’t do it, dad. I’ve wasted too much of my life trying to hate you.”

“Believe me, son. I’ve spent most of my life paying for that.”

Jim looks, really looks, at his dad. The lines around his face are pinched, haunted, as if he’s reliving horrible memories, stuck in a past that he can’t escape from. Jim feels the momentary flair of anger at his own compassion – this man _abandoned_ him – but he tamps it down and gestures to the space between them.

“This heart to heart doesn’t fix anything you know.” Jim narrows his eyes. He’s not letting his dad off the hook that easily.

But his dad just laughs, deep and hearty, and Jim can’t help his answering smile.

“No,” his dad agrees, “but it’s a start.”

“It’s a start,” Jim echoes.

****

2258 – Kirk

“Doctor McCoy,” Spock starts, speaking slowly like one talks to a small child, “while your thoroughness is admirable, the Captain can better make use of his time away from your sick bay. He has already been cleared for active duty by the competent doctors at Starfleet Academy.”

“I understand he’s been cleared _Mr_. Spock, but I don’t trust the ‘competent doctors’ at the academy. And since I wasn’t the one who conducted the damn thing I’d like to make sure for myself.”

 _Didn’t he have a say in all this?_ Kirk muses; last he checked he was pretty sure there was something called a Captain’s override he could use unless he was somehow incapacitated. 

“I assure you that the Captain is in peek physical health for a human of forty two years of age. Despite the doctor’s warning of his indulgence in a diet high in carbohydrates, Captain Kirk has been provided with a clean bill of health.”

“Thanks, Spock,” Kirk cuts in, rolling his eyes. 

“You are welcome, Captain.” 

Kirk could sit here all day if it was bound to be this entertaining. A complete opposite from the hours long Enterprise send off ceremony he was forced to sit through. He was just glad that they were already out of the solar system and on their first milk run.

“Just give me fifteen goddamn minutes, Spock. Then you can go frolic around or whatever the hell it is that you do.”

Spock’s eyes widen slightly as he pulls his head back, as if personally insulted and affronted at the same time. It makes Kirk put his hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter.

“I assure you, I do not participate in any activities where one can _frolic_.”

Kirk pats Spock’s side, the only place on his body he can reach from where he’s sitting on the bio bed, “it’s fine, Spock. I’ll meet you in your quarters at... 17:00 hours?”

“That would be acceptable,” Spock turns to McCoy, “Dr. – ”

“One more word Spock and I swear to god I’ll hypo you next.”

“You do know I can throw you into the brig for that, Dr. McCoy. Threatening your superior officer.”

McCoy opens his mouth, but Kirk just smiles at him. Spock turns on his heel without another word and makes his way to the doors.

“You’re just pullin’ my leg aren’t you?”

“I’ll give you a free pass, doctor. _This_ time.”

“Noted,” McCoy agrees, mouth relaxing, “And it’s Leonard. Or Len.”

Kirk goes to reply but there’s a commotion coming from the sick bay entrance.

“Booooooooooooo _oomph_ ,” Jim shouts as he barrels his way into Spock. Spock puts his hands on Jim’s shoulders to steady them.

“Lieutenant Kirk.”

“So- Sorry, Spock,” Jim apologizes, his booted toe scuffing into the floor.

“It is of no consequence,” Spock is quick to reassure as he continues on his way out the door.

Kirk looks over to where McCoy - _Leonard_ \- is standing, hypo clasped in one hand, unmoving. Both eyebrows are raised and his mouth is open, gaping like a fish. Kirk thinks he looks ridiculous – if not a little endearing – the way his mouth works like he’s trying desperately to say something. Kirk wonders what’s got the good doctor so flustered. 

“Jesus it’s like walking into a brick wall,” Jim jokes, his voice dying out as he catches sight of Kirk sitting on the bed.

It still catches Kirk off guard, just how much they look alike. And now, in the harsh light of sickbay, it’s even more startling. Other than the distinct difference in height and the fact that his blue eyes are all Carol, the intricate features on his face, and his attitude and mannerisms are all Kirk. Jim could be his doppelganger. 

“Jim,” Leonard hisses, completely unaware as to the change in tension, “please don’t tell me you’ve got a thing already for the damn hobgoblin.”

Jim ducks his head, and this time two sets of eyebrows raise comically; McCoy’s in disbelief, and Kirk’s in confusion. “Bones. Please. Not in front of my dad.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one, kid. I think the Captain would love hearing about the little thing you’ve got for his first officer,” Leonard taunts.

Kirk would very much like to know. Jim wasn’t lying when he said that McCoy was his best friend. McCoy could read Jim like a book.

“Spill it, son,” Kirk pipes in.

Jim’s ice blue gaze lands squarely on Kirk’s face and it takes a second for Kirk to realize that he doesn’t have the right to be asking that of his son. Just because their conversation the other day hadn’t ended with fists thrown, didn’t mean he had a right to know anything. He waits for the inevitable blow but Jim just takes a deep breath and turns to look back at Leonard.

Jim’s eyes narrow, and he sets his feet, “don’t you two go ganging up on me. Besides, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You have no idea?” Leonard splutters, “you were scuffing your toe into the goddamn floor. I was surprised you weren’t batting your baby blues at him from under your lashes and bitin’ your finger.”

Jim scoffs, “see if I eat with you in the mess hall later.” Similar to Spock, he turns to leave.

“Infant,” Leonard mutters.

“I heard that,” Jim calls out, not looking back.

Kirk feels the hiss of the hypospray before the stab of pain, Leonard too distracted to care about being gentle.

“Ouch,” Kirk grunts, hand coming up to rub at his neck.

Leonard just looks down at him, one eyebrow raised, “I’m sorry did I say infant? I meant infants.”

Kirk raises a hand to his heart, mock affronted, “hey. I’m older than you.”

Leonard’s mouth just twitches, “then start actin’ like it, _Captain_.”

Kirk shakes his head. He can see why Leonard is Jim’s best friend. Despite the I-don’t-care attitude when it came to authority, Leonard cared for Jim, was the older male figure that Jim could count on. That was blatantly obvious. Kirk found himself liking him immediately.

****

2260 – Kirk

“Captain, call coming in from, Starfleet,” Lt. Uhura announces, the sound of her fingers echoing as she presses the buttons, “it’s Admiral Pike, sir. He says it’s urgent.”

Kirk feels his hands flex against the chair, “on screen, lieutenant.”

Chris’s face comes into stark relief, his mouth downturned. If Chris is showing emotion, it can’t be good.

“Captain,” Chris sighs, “we’ve got a problem.”

“What’s wrong?” Kirk leans forward in the chair, the whole bridge deathly silent.

“We’ve received a distress call from Fytevo IV. Reports are showing that almost eighty percent of their food crops have been destroyed.”

“Do they have any idea what’s causing it?” Jim questions from the helm, his eyes wide.

“Negative, Jim. There haven’t been any reports of suspicious activity in the area. I’m thinking it’s something on the planet that’s causing it,” Chris flicks his eyes back up to Kirk, “It’s dire that you get there immediately, the Fytevians are already reporting casualties upwards of ten thousand. The death toll is rising exponentially.”

“How long has this been going on, Chris? Why didn’t the admiralty say anything sooner?”

“I notified you as soon as we got word, Captain. Their species are particularly sensitive to famine, they don’t have built in food stores and require constant sustenance to survive.”

“The Fytevians indigenous to the planet are able to utilize the sun to make their own food,” Spock chimes in, “they must take in flora in order to synthesize the proteins that make energy.”

“Like photosynthesis,” Jim says, turning around in his chair to face Spock.

“Precisely.”

“Lieutenant Kirk, plot a course for Fytevia IV,” Kirk sits up straighter, “Lieutenant Sulu, you are in charge of the botany labs, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Spock, I want you and Mr. Sulu in the science labs. I’ll have someone come up to take over your positions on the bridge. Lieutenant Uhura?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“I want you to get in contact with the Fytevian officials. Have them send any information they consider relevant and send that directly to Mr. Spock.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Course laid in, sir. Approximately three hours,” Jim looks to Spock, “and twenty minutes till we reach their orbit at warp 8.”

“Keep me updated, Captain,” Pike says from the screen, “Pike out.”

The comm. screen fades to black and Kirk stands, his tense muscles protesting the movement, “I want hourly reports and page me immediately if you’ve found something. Lieutenant Kirk, you’ve got the conn.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Kirk makes his way to the lift, calling out ‘sick bay’ as the doors close.

****

“Does Starfleet have any idea as to the sort of timeline we’re working with?” Len asks.

“All I got out of Chris was that it was ‘urgent’, Len.”

“Dammit, James, that’s not good enough!” Len begins to pace, hands tugging at his hair, “we’ve got a whole species that could be days or fucking hours away from potential extinction.”

“We’re the closest ship at three hours out, Len. I’ve got the Enterprise at max warp and Spock and Sulu are doing what they can before we reach orbit.”

Len blows out a breath, collapsing in his desk chair, “I know, I know. I’ll see what I can do about programmin’ the replicator to start synthesizin’ the proteins we’ll need until we find out what’s wrong with their crops.”

Kirk pulls out his communicator, “Mr. Spock.”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Send all you have about the plant properties and the Fytevian anatomy to McCoy so that he can start replicating the proteins for when we beam down.”

“Acknowledged, Captain. Spock out.”

When Kirk looks up, he finds Len rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

“Everything ok?”

“Despite the obvious clusterfuck?” Len snorts, his eyelids drooping slightly. Kirk reminds himself to start berating Len more for his horrendous sleep habits. God only knows how many times Len has lectured Kirk throughout the two years of their mission so far; it was time to return the favor.

“Yes, despite the less than perfect circumstances of our current mission.”

“Everything is just peachy,” Len finally settles on.

“Bull.”

Len just glares at him, but finally relents, nodding his head once, “reminds me of my dad is all.”

Kirk had heard that particular story during one of their many drinking nights onboard the Enterprise. Leonard was constantly plagued with the memory, the way his father had pleaded with him to let him die, and the cure having been found soon after his death. To Leonard, he was constantly responsible for every life he came across, and every death Leonard took as a personal failure. The fact that the Fytevians had already lost precious life meant that Leonard was already blaming himself.

Kirk reaches a hand across the table, covering Len’s hand with his own.

“It’s not your fault.”

“That’s bold, comin’ from you,” Len retorts, though his hand doesn’t move out of Kirk’s grasp, “you blame yourself if one hair on an ensigns head is out of place.”

Kirk can’t argue, Len’s got a point, “I’ve seen thousands of people die, Len, a lot of them by my own hand. You just... you can’t let that change who you are. You just do what has to be done.”

“Thanks, James.” Len turns in hand in Kirk’s, squeezing his fingers gently. Kirk swallows, feels the flush work its way up his neck. 

From where he’s sitting, Kirk can see the harsh breaths Len is pulling, the near frantic way his eyes dart around the room and the slight clamminess to his hand. All he wants is to pull him into his arms.

 _Wait_.

His communicator chiming brings him out of the moment, and he grapples for it, releasing Len’s hand in the process.

“Kirk here.”

“Captain,” Spock speaks quickly, his voice completely void of emotion, “I believe that Mr. Sulu and myself may have found something of relevance.”

“Excellent,” Kirk nearly shouts. He looks over to Len, gives him a small smile of reassurance, “meet me in ready room two in fifteen minutes. Get lieutenant Kirk and Uhura as well. Kirk out.”

Kirk stands up and stretches, wincing as his shoulder pulls.

“You ok?” Len asks, moving to stand. 

“Fine. Just tender.”

“I can give you something for it.”

Kirk waves him off, “I’ll be fine, Len. You coming?”

Len shakes his head, “need to stay here. See if I can start replicating the proteins. Going to need all the time I can get.” He pushes a finger into Kirk’s chest, “come to see me after so I can give you somethin’ for your shoulder.”

“Alright.” The doors open, and Kirk heads to the exit.

“I mean it!” Len hollers at Kirk’s retreating back.

****

Everyone is seated around the table by the time Kirk gets there, immersed in conversation.

“Ready to start?” Kirk claps his hands, attracting everyone’s attention.

“Is Dr. McCoy not joining us?” Spock asks, eyebrow raised. 

“I left him in sick bay to try to get a one up on the synthesizing.” 

“Logical,” Spock replies coolly, sharing a glance with Jim. If Kirk wasn’t sure he knew Spock like the back of his hand he would’ve sworn they just shared a joke at his own expense.

Kirk ignores it, “what did you find?”

“Once we received the weather models from the Fyotevian government, Mr. Sulu and I came across a potentially alarming pattern in their temperature. Although we have only been provided with 103.2 years of data, it seems as though the length of time it takes the planet to orbit around their sun, Helios V, is actually growing smaller. It has shortened the rotation from 24.65 earth days to 24.32 earth days, resulting in an increase in their surface temperature from approximately 38.3 degrees Celsius to a range of 40-42 degrees Celsius.”

“Plant enzymes, if not suitably adapted to their environment or manipulated through any genetic modification, will denature between 40-45 degrees Celsius. This renders them unable to create their own food and they will, eventually, die, just like the Fytevians themselves,” Sulu contributes, hands steepling in front of him, “because this change in surface temperature is so new, there is a possibility that this could be what is causing the problems with the plants, as they haven’t had a chance to evolve to the increase in temperature.”

“Mr. Sulu and I will need a sample of both the flora and of their seeds in order to test this theory once we beam down,” Spock concludes.

“You got it, Mr. Spock. I’ll discuss that with the Fytevian officials before we beam down. How are you planning on testing this theory?”

“The Fytevians have provided us with sufficient information to replicate their planets conditions in the botany labs. By gradually increasing the temperature we can determine whether the temperature, once everything else is controlled for, has a direct influence on the plants enzymes.”

“Okay so for now that’s what we go on. Anyone have anything else to share?”

“Sir, the president, Lollo, has provided the Enterprise with the beam down co-ordinates. All the universal translators have all been modified slightly to accurately reflect their spoken language, although I can’t perfect them until once we beam down.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Uhura, I have the utmost faith in your abilities.”

Kirk is just about to conclude the meeting when the doors open abruptly and Len stumbles in, hair ragged like he’s been pulling at it too much. Kirk’s fingers itch to smooth it down.

“Something to share with the class, Bones?” Jim asks.

“I wasn’t able to get full replication of the enzymes – ” 

“That is not uncommon,” Spock interrupts, “enzymes produced in the body, unless extensively researched, are nearly impossible to reproduce in lab conditions.”

“I’m aware of that,” Len growls out, and Kirk physically puts himself between them, “if you would just let me _finish_. What I was _sayin’_ is that I wasn’t able to get full replication but I got enough that, if administered relatively, should keep them alive. For the time being. It’s not a cure, but it will help to alleviate the fatigue and excessive sleeping that they are most likely experiencing due to the lack of energy being produced by their body. I’m gonna need a full team to beam down with me, if we don’t catch this quick enough the Fytevians could lapse into a coma, or worse, death.”

Kirk sees the haunted look that flitters over Len’s face and unconsciously steps closer, as if the shorter the physical distance, the less pain Len will feel.

“Take whoever you need. Lieutenant Uhura? Get Lollo ready on the vid screen. Tell him I’d like to talk to him. If he has a problem with that, tell him it’s non-negotiable and Spock? Spare whoever you can from the science labs to help Le... to help Dr. McCoy.”

“Yes, Captain,” both answer at the same time.

“Lieutenant Kirk, how much time left until we reach orbit?”

Jim checks his chronometer, his face scrunching as he calculates the time, “one hour and six minutes, Captain.”

“You know what to do. I want everyone at the transporter by sixteen hundred hours. Dismissed.”

****

Kirk closes the PADD, thankful that Lieutenant Uhura had briefed him and provided him the necessary information on Fytevian customs. She waits patiently for him to finish.

“Alright, put him on screen, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies calmly, always efficient. He makes a note to give her a commendation when this mission is finished.

“Captain Kirk,” Lollo’s voice booms, “I want to thank you so much for your _voitheia_.” The translator crackles over the word, giving assist, help, aid, as the possible definitions for the term.

Kirk smiles, fascinated by the Fytevians appearance. Lollo is unusually tall, the vid screen nearly completely taken up by his torso. He has strikingly long features, all appendages long and thin, the features on his face vertical in shape. Spock had warned Kirk that his skin would be nearly completely green in color, but Lollo is completely pale, the lack of nutrition drawing the pigment nearly white. He wonders just how much this conversation is taking out of him in terms of strength.

“ _Proedros_ Lollo, I wish to thank you for accepting help on behalf of the federation.”

Lollo’s face twists, the vertical line of his mouth stretching, “it is of paramount importance, Captain Kirk. I must do what is right for my people.”

“That’s something you and I can agree on, _Proedros_ Lollo.”

Lollo bends forward, his species gesture for agreement, “I expect that there are things you wish me and my people to have waiting for you. I offer all that I have, Captain Kirk. I wish for an expeditious solution to our problem.”

“As do I,” Kirk agrees, bending forward, “My Chief Medical Officer has requested permission to set up a makeshift trauma lab on your planet in order to deal with the sick in an efficient manner. Is this acceptable?”

“Of course Captain Kirk,” Lollo nods vigorously, his limbs nearly vibrating, “if you are amenable to the idea, my men would like to assist. We have many doctors on Fytevia.”

Kirk’s eyebrows rise, “are they not in need of medical attention?”

“The famine is affecting mainly our younger and older population, Captain Kirk. And I have people who may be of great use to you and your doctors. I just wish to help my people, Captain Kirk.”

Kirk considers this, understands the need to help despite physical tolls. 

“I will agree to your suggestion, however, I must give final say to my CMO Dr. McCoy regarding their participation.”

“I understand,” Lollo agrees, “and will defer to your McCoy’s expertise.”

 _Your McCoy_? Kirk can’t stop the flutter in his chest at the mere mention of Len.

“Was that all you required of my people?” Lollo asks at the delayed silence.

Kirk clears his throat, and wills down his slight blush, “My first officer, Mr. Spock and helmsman and botanist Mr. Sulu would like immediate access to your plant stores, including you seeds and seedlings. If you are not adverse to the idea I’d like to have that immediately available to my men once we beam down. I can’t stress enough how important this is _Proedros_ Lollo.”

Lollo’s whole body shakes, his color returning slightly before fading. Kirk isn’t sure of the emotion Lollo is projecting, but his mouth shrinks and he speaks again, “it cannot hurt, Captain Kirk. I will have all you need for your arrival.”

“Then that is all I require, _Proedros_ Lollo. We will be arriving in your orbit in approximately twenty two earth minutes.”

****

“I’m sorry, you did what?” Len asks, shocked.

It’s a few minutes till beam down, and Leonard and Kirk are the only ones in the transporter room. Kirk steps closer, looking up at Len, imploring him to understand.

“What else was I supposed to do, Len? I’m not going to turn away their help.”

“You are aware that they can’t store energy, right? That means that if they overexert themselves in the slightest capacity, I won’t be able to help them with the limited supplies that I have. It could mean death! I don’t want to risk it.”

“Lollo has promised to defer to your expertise. If you don’t think it’s safe then, by all means, tell them that! But don’t knock it till you try it. They know how to treat the Fytevians, outside of what’s been provided to us by Starfleet. They’re an asset.”

Len hangs his head, and Kirk knows he’s fighting an internal battle. He places his hand gently on Len’s arm, his breath stuttering as Len’s hand comes to cover his own.

“I’m not happy about this, but I have to admit you’re right,” Len lips twitch and if Kirk wasn’t so preoccupied at the sight of Len smiling at him he’d be gloating about finally getting Len to admit to his superior intelligence, “if I feel, at any time, that they’re overdoing it, I’m pulling the plug.”

“Done.”

They break apart just as the rest of the initial beam down team comes into the room, Jim trailing behind Spock and Sulu, and Uhura and Scotty coming in not ten seconds later.

“I want hourly updates, if you don’t have a job to do, assist where you can and page me immediately if you think you’ve found something, no matter how obscure or minute it may seem.”

“And,” Len cuts in, “the temperature of their planet is substantially hotter than anything experienced on earth. They also have a lower percentage of oxygen in their atmosphere. Make sure you stay hydrated, take breaks every thirty minutes and if you feel faint or nauseous, for god’s sake, take a fuckin’ break or come get a tri-ox compound. I’m here to help the Fytevians not rehydrate you ‘cause you tried to be a damn hero.”

“Due to fact that the atmosphere of Fytevia IV closely resembles that of Vulcan, I must point out, _Doctor_ McCoy, that I do not need to adhere to these strict rules as they only apply to humans.”

Jim nudges playfully into Spock’s side, and winks at Len, “don’t worry, Bones. I’ll make sure he gets the rest he needs.”

Kirk is astonished to see the faint green blush suffuse Spock’s cheeks, and has to forcefully contain his snicker. Len just rolls his eyes.

“You’re one to talk, Jim. You’ve all people are going to be dumb enough to land yourself in my care. I’d say it should be Spock being the one to watch out for _you_.”

“I will make sure that Jim is sufficiently hydrated at all times.” 

This time it’s Jim’s turn to blush.

“Aye, Captain, she’s ready to beam ya down.”

Everyone moves to the transporter, Len mumbling underneath his voice about the dangers and unnaturalness of the transporter. As the machine whirls, breaking apart their atoms, Kirk’s last thought is how much he wants to reach out and take hold on Len’s hand.

****

2260 – Jim *Day 4*

Jim walks into the botany lab, hot on Spock’s heels, hands shaking with adrenalin. He’d spent the last three days gathering plant samples with Spock and helping Bones and his dad when Hikaru didn’t need him. He’s been waiting for the first definitive test results for _days_ and he’s been getting antsy.

Hikaru turns at the sound of their footsteps and his face falls almost immediately. Jim clenches his fists as he struggles to overcome his sudden anger.

“Nothing?” Jim asks, voice carefully neutral.

“No,” Hikaru answers with a quick shake to his head, “first tests came back negative. From what I can tell it’s not the temperature that’s affecting the plants.”

“Did you rerun the tests?” The question is innocent and Spock, ever the scientist, needs replicable data in order to reject theories. But Hikaru’s eyes narrow, tensions run high at the dire emergency and their need for a quick solution, and Jim knows Hikaru’s taken it as a personal slight.

“I’ve tested and retested and gone over the results, Spock. Twice.” Hikaru’s voice is hard, “there’s nothing I can find that suggests that their temperature is a factor. Did you find anything planetside?”

“Negative,” Spock admits.

“Did you look at the Fytevians change in solar cycles? Now that their orbit is smaller, the decreased amount of light could negatively affect the crops Calvin cycle therefore producing less energy after time and ultimately resulting in their death.”

Spock looks at him with eyebrows raised beneath his hairline and Jim raises both hands at the accusing stare.

“What?”

“Nothing. I merely was unaware of your interest in flora.”

Jim shrugs, “although I was command track I took a lot of classes in botany. Wrote my thesis on genetic modification of plant DNA.”

“That explains why you were aware of the nature of photosynthesis.” 

It takes a second for Jim to remember what Spock is referring to – that day on the bridge – and he’s so stunned that all he can do is nod, “yeah.”

“Fascinating.”

“To _answer_ your question, Jim,” Hikaru butts in, “I studied the plants in almost no light and they were completely capable of producing the photosynthesizing proteins.”

Jim sighs, pulling out his communicator and wishing he had some better news to tell his dad.

“Captain Kirk, here,” his dad answers immediately.

“Hikaru’s results just came in. We’ve found nothing to suggest that their increase in temperature is causing the problems with the crops.”

Spock plucks the communicator from his fingers and Jim gapes, completely shocked that Spock would get all up in his business like that. Spock always prided himself – if he would ever admit it – on keeping a personal bubble around him so big that if it wasn’t for his spectacular hearing you’d have to shout to get him to hear you. But Spock was practically brushing up against him. Jim steals a quick glance in Spock’s direction and his face is as stoic as ever, not even a muscle twitch. 

“It appears as if the plants had sufficient time to adapt to the heat. Unlike most flora, the ones of Fytevia do not denature at forty degrees Celsius. This is similar to Vulcan. The flora on Vulcan can withstand heat up to sixty degrees Celsius.”

Kirk sighs, “talk amongst yourselves, see if you can come up with anything to go on. We will reconvene in an hour to discuss potential theories.”

 _”God fuckin’ dammit,”_ Jim hears in the background – Bones no doubt – before the echo of metal clattering to the floor. The sound of frantic steps, before the all too common sound of a heart monitor flat lining, Bones screaming instructions to the people around him.

And then silence.

They’re running out of time.

****

2260 – Kirk *Day 5*

Len had lost sixteen patients yesterday, and so Kirk could do nothing but push off the meeting until today and spend the previous day helping out as best he could. Kirk hadn’t left Len’s side that night, helping to supplement the sick and to make Len sleep when he flat out refused every time. The helplessness they both were feeling was getting stronger and stronger with every lost minute, day and Fytevian. It was getting critical, more Fytevians – even the healthy middle aged ones – were dying daily, despite Len’s treatments. 

They’re currently seated around a large oak table, situated inside the government housing. It’s a reprieve from the stress and heat of the Fytevian atmosphere.

“The synthesized proteins aren’t workin’ anymore. Despite the time, or amount that I give ‘em they’re still fuckin’ dying on me,” Len spits, leaning back in his chair, eyes trailing towards the ceiling.

Kirk surreptitiously sneaks a hand under the table and sets it gently on Len’s leg. He’d given up all tact of trying to remain unaffected around Len, his constant need to reassure and take care of him had obliterated their professional boundaries. He catches Len looking at him from his peripheral vision, but he makes no move to remove Kirk’s hand. 

“I’ve got the labs programmed to Fytevia conditions,” Sulu contributes, “The plants are doing well, so I suspect that we should have _some_ food to give them within a couple hours or so. Which is where I’m going now. I’ll update you.”

Sulu stands up, clapping his hand against Len’s shoulder as he moves out of the room, leaving Kirk, Jim, Len and Spock.

Len breathes a sigh of relief, pinching his nose, “thank Christ. We got any other hunches as to what the hell is goin’ on here?”

No one has a chance to answer, the doors swinging open with a bang, Lollo striding towards them with purpose, his limbs rustling. _Agitation_.

Kirk stands immediately, “What is it?”

“I’ve just received a call of distress from some Fytevians not too far from here. They say that they are not able to move of their own strength and require immediate medical assistance.”

Len is already on his feet, slinging his satchel of medical supplies over his shoulder.

“I’m going.” Len doesn’t look up, continuing to test and retest his tricorder as he packs his bag. Kirk feels the need to make sure Len is ok; this complete change in demeanor from angry to almost apathetic is putting Kirk on edge. Even at the worst of times, Len has always had hope but this attitude looks like he’s just _giving up_. It unsettles Kirk more than he wants to admit.

“I will assist you,” Spock stands as well, “it is possible that they will need someone of considerable strength to carry them.”

“Yeah,” Len mutters, distracted, “good idea.”

Kirk shoots an alarmed glance at Jim – who is staring back at Kirk, eyes wide. Looks like he’s not the only one who can see the change in Len’s attitude.

“Come, come, we must hurry,” Lollo appears, sticking his head through the open door.

Spock heads to the door, Jim following and Len goes to leave as well but something is twisting and turning in Kirk’s gut and before he can stop himself he’s reaching out a hand.

“Len, wait.”

Len turns at the sound of his name, and the resigned look on his face is hurting Kirk so badly that he has to rhythmically tense and relax his hands to keep himself from doing something stupid.

“Somethin’ wrong, James?”

 _Yes_ he wants to scream, wants to try to explain the bad feeling he has, to beg Len not to go.

“Don’t go,” Kirk blurts and then mentally kicks himself. Len raises an eyebrow and Kirk lifts his hands up, backpedalling, “I mean. The people need you _here_ , you can send someone on your team to go.”

“I can’t, James,” Len shakes his head, “I have to go. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to those people.”

And suddenly Kirk _gets_ it, Len wants so badly to be able to save someone, after all the death he’s been surrounded by, that he practically threw himself under the proverbial bus to do it. Before he can second guess himself, Kirk steps forward, leaning up to press his lips softly against Len’s. The touch is fleeting, instantaneous but when Kirk pulls back his heart is pounding in his chest, a deep flush suffusing his face and neck and disappearing into his shirt collar.

He looks to Len’s face, which is devoid of emotion and completely unmoving and Kirk feels his face fall. He takes a step back which seems to fuel Len into motion as he growls softly, crowding into Kirk’s space and pushes his lips, hot and insistent, against Kirk’s. He gasps into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Len’s neck. Len’s hands fall to Kirk’s hips, drawing them flush together. 

The kiss only lasts for seconds, both men panting hard when they finally break apart. Len runs his fingers through his hair, his lips kiss swollen. Kirk smiles smugly.

“Wha’?” Is Len’s eloquent reply, his face anything but defeated now and Kirk knows all the things that they have to talk about, all the questions and concerns, but they don’t have time for it.

“Come back safely and check in every hour,” Kirk settles on instead, and Len nods his head, understanding all the things Kirk wants to say but can’t.

****

2260 – Kirk *Day 5*

Len and Spock had called at their first appointed check-in, but the impending sense of doom feeling that Kirk’s having doesn’t abate.

When they don’t make their second check-in, Kirk hangs his head, and vows never to go against his gut instinct again, no matter how stubborn the opposition.

“Scotty,” Kirk bellows into his communicator, pacing back and forth across the same room he had left Len in just hours earlier, “can you get a signal on them?”

“I’m tryin’, ser. I cannae see anything but Fytevian signals from the general co-ordinates ye gave me. I can see yours at your position so it seems that the solid rock is blockin’ the sensors.”

“So they’re underground?” Kirk’s stomach drops, he refuses to believe the other reason why there would be a lack of one Vulcan and one human signal.

“That would be my guess, ser. I need more time to adjust the sensors.”

Kirk rubs his temple, “let me know as soon as you find anything.”

“Aye, ser. Scotty out.”

A commotion from outside draws Kirk’s attention, and he recognizes one of the voices immediately.

 _Jim_.

“What’s going on?” Kirk asks, immediately on the alert, looking back and forth between Jim and Lollo.

“What’s going on?” Jim echoes, his voice harsh and sharp, “why don’t you tell Captain Kirk what I fucking overheard you saying to your precious officials?” Jim pushes Lollo forward, and he’s looking everywhere but Kirk’s eyes, his body nearly convulsing. _Fear_.

“Sir... Captain, I assure you I had nothing to do with it,” Lollo stutters, “the rebellion. They’ve captured your men.”

“The rebellion? What rebellion?” Kirk takes a deep breath, wills himself to relax.

“It is not something spoken of to outsiders. Our beliefs are very sacred to us.”

Jim steps closer, and Lollo recoils, “you will tell my father _everything_. Now.”

Lollo pales, and Kirk is scared for a second that he’s going to pass out. He holds a hand out to halt Jim’s movement and steps forward.

“Why are we just hearing about this now?” Kirk prompts.

“We have tried to settle with them in the past. They blame us, the government, for the problems with the famine. They are demanding that our government be abolished in order for your men to be safely returned to you. If not, I fear that they will kill them.”

Jim snaps, launching himself at Lollo. The famine hasn’t been easy on Lollo and his men either, and the hard hit has him nearly doubled over in pain. Jim gets him righted, pushed up against the wall, hand pressed to the pressure points in his neck.

“You will tell me where they are or I swear to God I will kill you,” Jim snarls, his hand slowly applying pressure to Lollo’s windpipe, “do you hear me?"

“Jim!” Kirk yells, trying to get his way between them, “release him this instant.”

“No,” Jim spits, “tell me where they are,” he demands again.

Kirk musters all his strength and shoves hard, blocking Jim’s path when he tries to go for Lollo again.

“Son, calm yourself. Sit down.”

“How can you be so composed? Do you even care?” Jim hisses, looking down at Kirk, eyes wild.

Kirk doesn’t rise to the bait, knows Jim’s doing it to try to get a rise out of him, “I have a job to do as a Captain that, at the moment, doesn’t involve trying to bash someone’s head in. Let him explain. If he knows something he’s no use to us dead, Jim. Just take a breath.”

Jim backs off, goes to lean against the opposite wall. Kirk turns back to Lollo.

“I’ve got my son on a short leash _Proedros_ Lollo. Do not make me rethink that decision. Tell me _what_ is going on. From the beginning.”

Lollo nods, his mouth stretching, “a millennia ago, our people were together, striving and prospering. I do not know what happened personally, but my ancestors passed down stories of our god - _Evimeria_. It is said that he punished the lands because we had put so much time and effort into our crops and not into his proper worship. He cursed us. Sent down wave upon wave of death. Bugs, everywhere. They were destroying the food supplies. It is at this time that the rebellion formed. Believed that our sole focus with agriculture had made _Evimeria_ angry.”

“The rebellion wished to see the government fall, or to stop the crops from being destroyed. We had no other choice! We found chemicals that would rid the plants of death and disease. The government and rebellion lived in harmony until just recently, when the crops began to fail us once more. Which is when we contacted the federation for help. We received a transmission from them after your crew had been captured. They believe that your crew can be used as a bargaining chip to get you on their side in their mission to appease _Evimeria_ and to abolish the government.”

“They why did you just let Bones and Spock walk into that trap?” Jim asks from his position against the wall.

“I did not know for sure, but I had my suspicions that the rebellion was going to use a ploy in order to capture your crew. I would not have willingly let them go if I knew that the distress call was false.”

“Are they willing to negotiate?” Kirk would much rather talk through than have to resort to more hostile tactics.

But unfortunately Lollo shakes his head, his limbs pulsating, “no, Captain Kirk. They see this as their opportunity. They are not going to waste it.”

Kirk nods his head once, and he turns to Jim.

“Beam back up, get a security team waiting. I want them on standby once I get the ok from Pike to go in and get them. Also talk to Mr. Sulu, these chemicals the government was forced to use could be a factor in their crop problem. I want him to run some tests.”

It’s a long shot, but something is better than nothing.

“And you’re just going to leave Lollo here? What if he goes running to the rebellion the second he’s out of your sight?”

It doesn’t make sense that Lollo would help the rebellion out but Jim does have a point. If Lollo has ulterior motives there is a chance he could alert the rebellion to their plans.

“ _Proedros_ Lollo, I hope you understand when I ask you to come with us for the time being.”

Jim shoots him a glance, his mouth slightly upturned.

“Of course, Captain.”

****

2260 – Jim *Day 5*

“I’ve got em,” Scotty shouts loudly, and Jim watches with fascination at the two small dots that appear on the scanner. Scotty had called Jim immediately after he had alerted Hikaru to what Lollo said. He’d practically ran the whole way to the transporter room.

Jim claps him on the back, his grin nearly wide enough to split his face, “fuck yes, Scotty. Can you beam them out?”

“Negative, Jim. I dinnae trust the transporter to pull them out with the interference from the rocks. You’ll have to get em.”

“Damn, alright,” he turns to the security personnel, “I only want a small team going with the Captain and I. Meet us on the transporter room in fifteen minutes. Set phasers to stun.”

When he makes it back to the bridge to tell his dad the news, he’s still on vid comm. with Pike.

“Just don’t do anything stupid, Jimmy.”

His dad smiles, “never, Chris. What do you take me for?”

Chris just laughs, his gaze falling to Jim as he walks on screen, “hey, kid.”

His dad’s gaze snaps to him, his eyes imploring.

“Scotty found them. Says he can’t beam them out cause of rock interference.”

“Security?”

“Ready and waiting to go,” Jim replies.

“Alright, Chris,” his dad says, turning to face Pike, “I’ll keep you updated.”

“You better. Don’t go getting yourselves killed. Pike out.”

****

2260 – Kirk *Day 5*

“Lieutenant Giotto and Michaels, I want you to flank us as soon as we get in sight of their bunker,” Jim says.

Kirk smiles as Jim tells security of their plans. He was definitely Kirk’s son; a master tactician. 

“Yes, sir,” they both answer at the same time.

Scotty had beamed them a few hundred yards from the bunker and they were making their way there slowly. They were on the outskirts of the town, no protection from the sun and they needed to reserve their energy.

“We don’t know what kind of weaponry they’re using. Fytevia had banned them but Lollo thinks they’ve got weapons and are prepared to fight. Fire to stun immediately if you see any sudden movement,” Kirk contributes.

“Sir, the Fytevians are sick,” Lieutenant Michaels chips in, “will the stun not injure them?”

“Priority number one is getting Spock and Bones back,” Jim answers, “we can’t take liberties. Their safety is of paramount importance.”

Kirk can’t argue. There was no other way to go about getting them back, especially if the Fytevians had weapons. The rebellion wouldn’t hesitate to fire. And neither will Kirk.

Kirk can see the bunker as they make their way up the hill.

“We’ve got hostiles,” Lieutenant Giotto announces.

“About twenty,” Jim agrees. 

“Put down your weapons!” Kirk screams, phaser raised. He sees Giotto and Michaels move to flank him, Jim coming up onto his right. Jim pulls his phaser, and looks to Kirk, his eyes almost completely black.

“We will not bow down to the government! Help us and we will release our prisoners!” one of the rebels protests, limbs flailing. The rest of the rebels move at the noise, and suddenly there’s a lot more than twenty of them.

Kirk sees the glint of something metal as the sun hits it, but before he can react Jim fires, the rebel falling immediately to the ground in a heap.

“Surrender,” Jim growls, “and we won’t hurt you. Release Bones and Spock!”

“ _Evimeria_ must be appeased. The government is the cause of the famine, they did nothing to help, nothing to save our people. You wish to help them! To see death come at the hands of our god.”

Chaos breaks out at the rebels words, and suddenly Kirk finds himself in the middle of a fight, his men and Jim rushing them, phasers blasting. He ducks to avoid some sort of thrown instrument and rolls behind a rock.

“Surrender!” 

Kirk swivels, turning around to face the blunt end of some sort of gun pressed against his head.

“Never,” Kirk says, eyes hard, “kill me if you must but I will never surrender to you.”

Kirk closes his eyes, wishes for Jim’s safety, wishes he could tell Jim just how great of a son he turned out to be and to finally admit his feelings for Len out loud. But Kirk just waits, the silence deafening, and in the end his curiosity gets the best of him and he cracks an eye to find the rebel lying on the ground at his feet. Dead. He turns around, coming face to face with Jim.

“His body must’ve been too weak to withstand the stun,” Jim admits, coming over to check the rebels pulse. 

“You saved my life,” Kirk says, unbelieving. He looks around him, sees Giotto and Michaels gathering up the stunned bodies and keeping watch on the rebels that surrendered.

“Course I did,” Jim says, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, “you’re my dad.”

“I’m proud of you, son.”

It’s a repeat of all those years ago, and Kirk is expecting the same reaction as he did that day at Starfleet academy. They’ve reconciled over the years, but Kirk wasn’t naive enough to think that was all Jim needed in order to move on, to move past their differences.

Jim pulls him into an unexpected hug, and Kirk stands shocked before his arms wrap hesitantly around his son’s larger frame.

“Scared the shit out of me,” Jim says with a rough laugh.

“I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“Bullshit,” Jim teases, and Kirk is happy to see him smiling, “now let’s go get Bones and Spock.”

Kirk couldn’t agree more.

Kirk hesitantly steps into the bunker, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. The bunker is lined with prison cells and the walls are peeling and chipped, small dust particles falling from the ceiling as they walk. Kirk couldn’t wait to get the hell out.

Len and Spock are in opposite cells at the end of the hall. The second Spock spots them walking, he moves towards the bars.

“Jim, I am gratified at your quick response.”

 _And who am I, chopped liver?_ Kirk thinks with a smile, watching as Jim moves to the lock, carefully shooting it open. Jim hesitates before walking in, looking to Kirk and then Len’s cell. 

“Go,” Kirk waves him off, “I’ll go get Len.”

Kirk peers inside the cell. Len is sitting towards the bed on a chair, his face completely neutral as he stares off into space. 

“Len?” Kirk calls out.

No response.

Kirk shoots the lock with haste, swinging the door open as he steps inside the cell. Len doesn’t turn, or even acknowledge the sound and Kirk gets to him quick, kneeling down on the floor beside him. Len’s right shirt sleeve is completely torn off, his collar is ripped and he’s got cuts and contusions on his arms and neck.

“Len, are you ok?” He wraps his arms around Len’s torso, but the man doesn’t move a muscle, completely transfixed at whatever it is he’s staring at.

  


Nothing.

“Leonard, look at me dammit!” Kirk shakes him for effect.

Slowly, so slowly Kirk would swear it was just his brain tricking him as to the movement, Len turns his head to face Kirk’s.

“James...?” His speech is slowed, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Kirk draws him closer, nodding his head, “yeah Len, it’s ok. It’s me, it’s James.”

Len all but melts into Kirk’s arms, finally giving up the fight, and Kirk’s right there to catch him.

“It’s ok,” Kirk murmurs, rubbing slow circles against Len’s back.

“I didn’t think you were real. Didn’t think I’d see you again.” It’s mumbled into Kirk’s shirt, but he hears it nonetheless.

“I’m real, it’s ok, you’re ok. They didn’t hurt you too badly, did they?”

Len shakes his head no and Kirk blows out a breath, thankful. Len’s hands come up to frame Kirk’s face, and the press of his lips to Kirk’s is enough proof that they’re both going to be okay. Kirk pulls away slowly, and runs his fingers through Len’s hair.

“Can you stand up?” Kirk asks, “we need to get you back to the ship.”

“Yeah I can stand.”

Kirk slings Len’s arm over his shoulder, helping to hoist him up and out of the chair. They arrive at the cell entrance at almost the same time that Jim and Spock do.

“Leonard, may I ascertain as to your wellbeing?” Spock asks at the same time Jim asks, “Bones, you gonna make it?”

Len smiles and Kirk’s hand tenses against Len’s hip, “yeah, junior I’m gonna ‘make it’. Thanks Spock, I’m fine.”

Jim pouts at the nickname and Spock’s mouth twitches, “I am pleased to hear that you are satisfactory.”

“Then can we all agree to get the fuck outta here?” 

“While I would not put it that way, I am amenable to leave this... establishment.”

When they come out of the building Giotto and Michaels are waiting for the government officials.

Kirk pulls out his communicator.

“Scotty here, ser.”

“Four to beam up.”

****

“You are sure that it is these chemicals that are causing the problems with our crops?” Lotto asks.

“Positive,” Sulu answers, “I took a sample and applied it to the crops and their enzymes began to denature. It didn’t happen immediately but it explains why it’s been getting progressively worse. I’ve given you a list of pesticides readily available that will not danger your crops anymore. For the time being, I’ve got quite a few plants growing that should get you started over.”

Lotto’s mouth widens, “I thank thee, Mr. Sulu. You have saved our planet along with the rest of the Enterprise’s crew. It is pleasing to know that our god is finally appeased.”

“We are happy to help, and will continue to do so until everyone is ok,” Kirk adds in. After they had taken Len and Spock to sickbay, Sulu and Kirk had beamed back down to Fytevia to tell Lotto that they had figured out what was wrong with the crops. Starfleet had ordered them to stay until the crop destruction had stabilized and that the Fytevians could successfully grow their own food again.

He stands, and Sulu follows suit, both bending down into a bow. Kirk is itching to leave. He’s desperate to go see how Len is.

“I will have rotations of people beaming down to Fytevia to assist. Is this acceptable?”

“Of course, Captain Kirk.”

“I will see you soon. Let’s go Sulu.”

****

Len isn’t in sickbay, the mess hall or the bridge when Kirk gets back, and he’s starting to worry. His worry is misguided though when he enters his quarters and is immediately backed up against the wall, Len’s breath hot against his neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in sickbay?”

“Let me out early,” Len breathes, “besides, I am the worst patient ever besides your son. They couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”

Len starts trailing spit soaked lips down Kirk’s neck and he tilts his head granting Len better access.

“I can only imagine,” Kirk agrees, but when Len palms Kirk’s cock he starts pushing gently at Len’s shoulders. When Len finally backs away, his eyes are shadowed, hurt.

“Do you not want this?”

Kirk’s eyes widen, “of course I want this. I was making sure _you_ wanted it. It could just be a side effect from your trauma.” It hurts to say it, for Kirk to just be some warm body Len can use to make himself feel alive, but Kirk isn’t going to take advantage of Len if this is just some happy-I’m-alive-sex. No matter how much the insistent throb between his legs want it.

“Fuck, James. I’ve wanted you forever. Do you just think I spill my guts and hold hands with all my friends?”

It’s not romantic, not a love declaration to end all love declarations but Kirk gets what he means. Len allows himself to be vulnerable around Kirk’s presence, and that more than anything is what he wants. He presses himself up against him, needing to know for sure.

“You think you can handle an old man like me?” Kirk teases.

“Definitely.”

His back hits the wall harder this time, and Kirk can feel the hot press of Len’s cock against his thigh. Their mouths meet in a tangled clash, both opening easily for the other. Len rides Kirk’s thigh, so he angles it up, gives Len more pressure.

“Shit,” Len curses.

Kirk knows there isn’t going to be much time for finesse. It’s going to be hot and rough, so he quickly pops the button of his trousers and pulls them off with his shoes, watching with blown pupils as Len gets the hint and starts doing the same. Len’s pants pool at his feet and he kicks them off along with his boots. Kirk nearly salivates at the way his boxers cling to his ass.

“Get on the bed,” Kirk demands.

Len raises an eyebrow, “bossy now?”

Kirk grins, “I am the captain.”

“Gonna make that an order?” But Kirk doesn’t have time to answer, as Len goes to lay down on his back against Kirk’s sheets.

Kirk crawls over him, trailing finger tips over Len’s exposed skin, soft and warm.

“You’re beautiful,” Kirk tells him, and Len just twists his head in the sheets, embarrassed. Kirk chuckles at Len’s discomfiture as he trails kisses up Len’s chest, watching as Len turns his head at the last second to capture Kirk’s lips with his own.

Kirk groans into the kiss and presses down, their cocks rubbing at each other through their underwear. 

“Off,” Len orders, tugging at the waistband of Kirk’s underwear. Both struggle in their haste, relishing the feel of skin against skin as they fall against each other, completely naked.

Len gets a hand between them, slick with saliva to grasp both their erections in his hand. Kirk’s head falls to Len’s shoulder and he looks down, watching as the head of his cock disappears through Len’s closed fist. 

The pressure is perfect, and Kirk can already feel the tension in his stomach. He reaches a hand down, feeling Len’s forearm as it flexes and he’s gone, biting deep into Len’s shoulder as he shoots across their stomachs. Len follows soon after, using Kirk’s come to ease the friction.

Kirk goes to pull himself off to get cleaned up, but Len’s arms wrap around him immediately, securing him in place.

“Stay,” Len says with a smile.

And Kirk would stay anywhere for that smile, even if it means he’ll have a bad time getting dried come off himself come morning.

“Always.”

 

**EPILOGUE**

2261 - Jim

“What?!” Jim screams, looking frantically between his father and Bones. _Bones_ and his _father_. It was bad enough when they announced they were together. But now they were getting _married_.

Jim barely resists the urge to gag.

“I said,” Bones repeats, his tone entirely too happy for the grumpy old fart that he is, “guess who’s gonna be your stepdad.”

“Oh my god.”

Bones just laughs, and ruffles Jim’s hair, leaving a gaping, shuddering Jim in Bones’ office.

“Did I overhear correctly that Dr. McCoy and your father have decided to marry?” Spock asks, appearing from fucking nowhere. 

“Ugh, I know, right?”

“On the contrary. I do not find it to be ‘ugh’. Despite their different personalities, they are very well suited for each other.”

Jim smiles, a sudden thought occurring to him, “you do realize that will make Bones your father in law right?”

The face that Spock makes is completely worth the mental images of his dad and best friend fucking. Life is gonna be great.

THE END


End file.
